Kate would have faced the most deadly peril with far less tremor than her really much-loved cousin; she felt, however, that the message sounded friendly, little imagining that "Miladi's love" was an addition of Louise's, who never could conceive one to Miss Vernon unprefaced by some such sugary prefix. Kate found Lady Desmond lying on the sofa, looking deadly pale and exhausted; she held the note in her hand.
"You are right," she exclaimed abruptly, as Kate shut the door and stood before her; "we have much to arrange, for inaction is torture." Her voice sounded deep and broken, different from its usual harmonious refinement. She rose and paced the room. "Your note has raised a thousand recollections which range themselves on your side, Kate. I must, I dare not doubt you; there would be no confidence left to me on earth if I did!—let us mention it no more. No!" motioning Kate back, as she sprang to throw her arms round her at these words—"I am in no mood for tenderness. Whether intentionally or not you have inflicted terrible sufferings upon me. I repeat, I cannot doubt you—it would be too revolting—I could not endure such a double trial. I may be very wrong, but I cannot look upon you as I did, not yet at least; and your question, how I acquired the accursed knowledge, I will never answer, and you must never ask again: he need not have enhanced his love for you by his triumph over me!" She muttered these words between her teeth, glancing darkly at Kate. "I sent for you," she resumed hurriedly, "for your note reminded me of what was due to myself. We must subdue ourselves, and act our part for the audience of Hampton Court. I have thought of a plausible tale; attend to me; learn your part, and remember you owe me the reparation of performing it well. I am not well. God knows that is true! I have received news that compels me to leave for Ireland as soon as I can. We will endure each other for a week, Kate. I little thought I could ever speak so to you. My own dear Kate, come—yet, no, no! I cannot embrace you. Oh! I am most miserable, to be debarred in this wretchedness from the only sympathy that could have soothed me."
"But you have it," answered Kate, in accents of the softest, deepest tenderness.
"I will not have your pity," resuming her troubled walk. "I will not have that Devil sneer at my credulity. I will wait and see before I take you to my arms again. Yes, we must part for a time. I could not bear the alternate affection for, and doubt of you, which sweep across my mind. I will see if he cannot yet prevail on you to overcome that repugnance which—pah! repugnance to him! Well, Kate, do not mind me; I cannot speak coherently; remember we have a part to play for a while together, then separately; and where—where can you go? I am selfish—I hate myself; but for a short time we will separate; and Kate, you will not disdain—you will not forget it is my duty to provide for you. I promised your grandfather!—and, oh! heavens, how am I fulfilling the guardianship I undertook! But you will command all that your lightest fancy may prompt. I am rich, and after a while we will be together."
"Georgy," said Kate, with calmness inexpressibly sad, "I see you do not yet believe me, but in time you must; till then we need not embitter each other's lives. When you leave this for Ireland, I will go to Mrs. Storey; she has often invited me; from that I can write to you. The Winters will be home ere long, and when, in God's good time, you know that I never deceived or betrayed you, we will meet again. I have enough for every present want, and you must not think me so much beneath yourself that I would accept the charity of her who thinks me unworthy. There is only one favour I must ask—it is to help me in keeping nurse—my poor dear nurse—(the only one who still loves and trusts Kate Vernon)—in the dark as regards this unhappy breach; it would break her heart if she knew of it—"
"I will do as you desire; but, Kate, you must allow me——"
"Hush!" said Kate, with a slight but inexpressibly dignified gesture of rejection, that compelled Lady Desmond to silence. "I am most anxious about nurse; I cannot take her with me, and I feel her to be a friend too dear, too closely associated with all I love, to part from as I would a common servant;" and the swelling of Kate's heart at the idea of breaking this last link choked her utterance.
"She shall come with me—she shall stay with me," said Lady Desmond eagerly, "until you join me again; it is natural that you should accept Mrs. Storey's invitation, still more so that you should not crowd her establishment unnecessarily. Nurse will surely not object to a separation for a few weeks, she will not think it strange."
"Leave nurse to me," said Kate, anxious to relieve her cousin's mind of the slight uneasiness which inflected her voice; "she will be difficult to manage, but you may trust me with her."
"There is nothing to be managed," said Lady Desmond, with cold hauteur. "But we have agreed to endeavour to avoid any gossip that might arise from ——; though why should I fear any. You will write to Mrs. Storey, and see nurse, and to-morrow——." Lady Desmond paused, gazed stedfastly at vacancy, and then drawing a long breath, continued, in a tone of intense resolution, "To-morrow I shall receive those people as usual."